


At Night

by KissTheBoy7



Category: Rent - Larson
Genre: Angst, Cutting, Friendship, M/M, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-30
Updated: 2012-09-30
Packaged: 2017-11-15 09:06:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/525602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KissTheBoy7/pseuds/KissTheBoy7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At night, there's nothing, not even Roger, to keep Mark from thinking those thoughts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	At Night

It's been more than a month since the last time he cut.

Mark lays in his dark room listening to the traffic of the city outside, staring at what he imagines must be the ceiling since he's on his back on the old mattress.

A little more than a month ago, at this same time of night, he was huddled in the corner, breathing harshly as he brought the silver teeth of his key to the loft to his delicate white wrist.

Now Roger lies with him, strong arms wrapped around his skinny frame and snoring in his ear. The warmth and comfort of his roommates' presence should be making him sleepy, but he's still wide awake and it has nothing to do with the snoring.

Mark is recovered. He likes to think that he's healed, psychologically. He'll never do it again. But is that really him talking? Or is it Roger? Roger who walked in on him one night with a knife, yelled at him when he saw the blood, cried when he saw the despair in Mark's eyes? Is it only because of Roger that he doesn't slice through his skin anymore in an effort tot feel something other than emotional pain?

It would only make sense if that was the case. After all, he'd do anything for Roger. It had always been that way hadn't it? This ridiculous emotional attachment, the power Roger held over him. He was, after all, the reason he cut in the first place.

Facing the fact that he loved Roger was hard. Probably the hardest thing he'd ever done. And it felt so fucking right, but so fucking wrong.

The filmmaker was turned away from the guitarist as he slept. He held out his arm in front of his face, not far from his nose. Even without his glasses he could see the scars. With his thumb, he traced them with a gentle touch. Every one for Roger. But he could never tell him that.

In the daytime it was light, and everything was optimistic. Roger was there, awake, happy. It was easy to forget the scars beneath the fabric of his sweater sleeves. It was easy to laugh with his friends and smile.

At night, it was just Mark, alone with his thoughts and Roger's warmth. Although comforting, Roger couldn't stop him from pondering. And nothing Mark pondered had to do with how 'happy' his life was in the daylight.

It had to do with the feeling of cool metal against his skin, slicing, red trickling out of the wounds as he stared. It had to do with how the anguish inside of him flowed out with it, if only for a short time. How Roger had taken his comfort away and replaced it with himself, but not in the way Mark wanted…

Mark wanted Roger to be in his bed because he wanted him, not because he was afraid that Mark would run off and cut himself open with the next sharp object he found.

Then again, Roger probably wanted to have a best friend he didn't need to wrap his arms around every night to keep that from happening.

Poor Mark. He was helpless to resist. If he really loved Roger, he would give this one little thing to him. Even if it meant taking away his pleasure pain.

He could deal with that.


End file.
